Cowboy Colt by Dandi Daley Mackall Page A

day . . .
    â€œI warned you he wasn’t much to look at,” the Bear says.
    I remember what Colt said about my horse looking more like a barrel than a barrel horse. He was wrong. But if any horse ever did look like a barrel, it would be this one. His sides stick out, and his belly looks too close to the ground. He’s the fattest horse I’ve ever seen.
    â€œMy foreman’s a lazy good-for-nothing,” the Bear growls. “He left ol’ Bullet here out to pasture night and day through the spring. And that’s a rich pasture. I admit it’s going on three years since I was at the ranch. Bullet put on a few pounds.”
    A few hundred pounds, I think. I have the Bear and Bullet follow me into the backyard. When I open the gate, Dream nickers and starts trotting toward me.
    Then she stops. I can tell by the way she’s standing that her ears are back. Her nostrils are wide. I hear her foreleg pawing the ground. She does not like this newcomer.
    â€œIt’s okay, Dream,” I call out. “We have a friend for you.”
    Bullet whinnies. His whole chest jiggles like a barrel full of jelly. I walk over to him and stroke his neck. I should have given him a better greeting right off. “Don’t worry, Bullet,” I murmur. His neck is firm. Muscled. It surprises me.
    Dream whinnies at Bullet. But it doesn’t sound like a warm greeting.
    Bullet answers with a whimper.
    â€œOkay,” I admit, stroking his neck. “Maybe we don’t have a friend for you quite yet.”
    Dream watches as we put Bullet in the lean-to. The Bear ties him in.
    â€œThe last thing this horse needs is fresh clover,” he says.
    I know he’s right. But I still think every horse should have food around almost all the time. “We have hay in Dad’s shed,” I tell the Bear. “It’s low calorie, compared to grass and grain.”
    I sign to Ethan, and he brings Bullet an armful of hay to munch on overnight. He signs to me, Thanks, Bear, for driving all the way to your ranch. And thanks for giving us your horse.
    Ethan has a point. I thank the Bear for everything.
    The Bear walks into the lean-to and checks Bullet’s rope. Ethan has already untied the Bear’s knot and replaced it with one of his own quick releases. Ethan is great with knots. “Nice,” the Bear mutters.
    Dream stops pawing the ground. She does a half rear and takes off. Bucking and thrashing, she circles the yard. Then she slides to a halt a good distance from the lean-to and snorts. Again she paws the ground and lets out a whinny that sounds like a threat.
    This time Bullet paws the ground and snorts in response.
    Even Pinto Cat arches her back and hisses at Bullet from the safety of Dream’s side of the yard.
    â€œHey! You guys are supposed to be friends,” I tell them.
    The Bear stares from Dream to Bullet and back. “Long way from being friends. I’d say they’re arguing.”
    And I’d say they remind me of Colt and me.
    * * *
    As I fall asleep that night, I try to imagine riding with Colt—me on Dream and Colt on Bullet. But the dream keeps fading. Even I am having trouble imagining that inside that round barrel of horse, a real quarter horse is waiting to come out.

12

    Changeups
    The next morning I get up early enough to take Dream out for a short ride before school. I’ve dreamed about doing this. And now my dream has come true.
    I just hope Colt feels the same way when I give him his horse on his birthday.
    Dream and I head out of town. About a block from home, the gravel road turns to dirt. The sun is shining through the trees. Birds are singing. I hear a mourning dove, a woodpecker, a cardinal, and a lot of other chirping.
    As if my horse can read my mind, she breaks into a canter, slow and easy.
    I can imagine all kinds of things. But I can’t imagine life getting any better than this moment right now. Everything in me